Cimmerian Ablaze
by Pierides
Summary: He was dark; crimson smiles and sadistic laughter. She was light, scarlet hair and emerald jewels. Yet the darkest people were often those with the lightest movements, he knew that and he knew her. Her mocking smirk was proof. Joker/Poison Ivy


_(A/N:) -Is shot- I know! It's a weird pairing, but I've wanted to try it out. This will not become a fic, but I'll certainly consider the possibilities of this pairing in the future. Yes, this is Joker/Poison Ivy, one of the most unlikely pairings imaginable, but you see in this one-shot universe, there is apparently no Harley and Pam seems capable of handling the Joker rather well. This was a whim and I hope you enjoy it. EDIT--I read this over before posting it and still was appalled to find the amount of typos I did in it...Wow, well, I went and fixed them._

_Inspired by the #13 prompt "White" on the livejournal community 50scenes._

_Disclaimer: All may be fair in love and war, but not in law, thus I am forced to inform you that I do not own any of these characters, only my interpretation and plot._

* * *

It glowed, sorely, yet beautifully standing out in all the darkness. Instantly, almost against his will he felt his eyes drawn to her. Bright, so bright, the snowy covering that wrapped around her almost appeared like angel's wings. She was light, even to him.

His eyes were dark, brown and smeared with a black mask. Her eyes were nothing of the like. No, hers shown in an alluring shade of garnet, accented by the dark copper shade that highlighted her lids. A part of him wanted to turn away, pay attention to the enclosed booth he sat in on the club floor, but another bid him one more moment of looking, of gandering. She couldn't see him, the windows were tinted, so what reason had he to want to pull away—not that would have even if there was a way for her to be conscious of his staring? So he ignored his inner request to halt his appreciative glances at the woman in the ivory coat. If only she would shed it...

"A snake dat one," came a voice from the opening of the door, "at least dat's what they say. She comes here often, but never with anyone and she shrugs off every man dat comes to 'er. Pretty to look at, but cruel. I'd stay away from her, if I was yous. I even doubt you could sway her."

He turned his gaze away from the woman, eyes finding Salvatore Maroni in the doorway. With the door open behind him, the loud music of the club interrupted the otherwise muffled silence. He raised a brow at the mob boss.

"Well if that doesn't sound like a challenge, there, _**Sally**_," his tongue came to skirt along his blood-red lips and he rubbed his hands together, "I do love those."

"Ya wanna try, be my guest," Maroni gestured, but he was only met with an expectant gaze. "Ah, I suppose, I couldn't be rude to ya. Der somethin' ya need, Joker?" He fully entered the room and the door closed behind him. He took a seat across from the man on a nice, plush couch.

The Joker grinned, "On a night like this? Business? Even a guy like me can have some old fashioned fun once and while. Ya see, I'm not here to, ahem," he cleared his throat, "_**intimidate**_ you, or _crush your little life._ I just thought to myself, Maroni owned a nice little joint. _**Your**_ boys are the ones that ushered me in here. Hey, who was I to deny A-list treatment?"

"You want a drink then?"

Joker seemed to contemplate it, but then shook his head. "No, but," he raised a hand, "you can give some information, since I'm here and all and you seem to be quite the expert. You know where I can find some pleasurable company?"

Maroni frowned, "You gets any of dese broods drunk enough and yeah, but," he noticed the dark look on the Joker's face, "it appears that doesn't suit you."

"No, Sally, it doesn't, and I'll tell ya why, hm?" He tilted his head, chewing his cheek, eyes intense before he leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, propping his feet on the end table in front of him. "I'm a guy who likes honesty, bold messages, and a little dynamite here and there. I love games, but there's no fun in getting a girl drunk. You take her home, you two have loads of fun, and then the next morning she wakes up with a hangover, she's confused, and then she finds out she's naked. That's when she screams and then she finds out who she's slept with...and well, the details get messy after that, if you know what I mean."

Maroni had a gut-clenching feeling he did know what the Joker meant. He was glad he didn't have to sit through the gory details, but at the same time that would have stalled his answer. Had he listened to a description of what that Joker would have done/had done in a situation like that, he would have had time to think how to answer his question. Yet he had none, there was nothing he could say. The truth was that he wasn't sure who in their right mind _**would**_ agree to be in the company of the man of their own free will.

The Joker was a psyche case. He blew buildings up and had led Batman on chases for entertainment, exerted his manipulation in the cruelest of ways (ways that even the Mob wouldn't), he was frightening and powerful; he wore greasepaint to enhances scars that weren't otherwise that horrifying! He looked like the devil incarnate. Who would willingly assent to spending time with this guy? With all that in mind, Maroni stared with no lack of unease at the Joker, whose dark stare, gleaming from that chalk-white face glittered the more time passed. Maroni could swear that with every increase in the beat of his heart, the Joker's smile grew wider.

"What about her?" The Joker's amused voice finally cut the silence, he pointed a finger behind him and twisted his wrist lazily. "Still wanting to challenge me?"

Maroni was thankful for the change of attention, but uneasy at its target. He stared at the woman, whose vibrant, scarlet curls fell from her head and framed her pale face. Her lips were dark crimson, her mouth upturned in a hint of some predatory smirk. She hardly ever took the offer of any man and if she did, he was nothing to her but a plaything. Yet if the Joker was occupied, it'd not his head he was after.

"I said," he forced himself back to calm, "if ya wanna try, then be my guest. But don't be fooled, she may look vulnerable, but she's got a bite like a viper. Trust me, I've seen the idiots that underestimated her." The Joker chuckled lowly.

"Underestimate her? Vulnerable? I'm not fooled at all. How can a guy like me, not sense the power she holds. She sees this world as just a playground...my kind of woman." The Joker straightened up and leaned on his thighs to regard Maroni. "Oh, no, I'll not have any expectations from her, other than she be herself. I do so _**hate**_ when people change for little old me, try to hide behind a facade. So does this beautiful viper, as you call her, have a name?"

"The boys call her Poison Ivy."

"Poison Ivy," the Joker tested the name on his tongue as he licked his lips, "Poison Ivy, what a terrifyingly _**fitting**_ name. It's because she seems so innocent to others, but that's not who she is at all. Who's been looking at this girl to have come to that conclusion?"

The Joker craned his head to regard the woman, who stood, back against the wall, cradling a drink in her delicate, but nimble hand. Innocent? No. Dark? Yes. Alluring? _**Oh**_ yes. He could see the velvet pragmatism just beyond the surface of those vermilion eyes. She was powerful, confident; bold and daring, just waiting for a man to come who could see her world. All the ones he had seen approach her were mere boys.

"Does she have a real name, though?"

Maroni shook his head, "I would say so, but I've never heard it. She's never given it to anyone."

The Joker stood up. He discarded his large, dark plum coat and fixed his collar. He flashed a grin at Salvatore before simply walking from the room. He noticed the stares he was afforded, the way the dancefloor seemed to lose a fraction of its volume, but the music was still threading the air with bone-jarring bass.

He pulled up beside the woman, who to her credit offered no more than a glance to him, before falling back onto looking at the people who filled the club. He leaned back casually, absolutely loving that she, despite knowing who he was offered no more attention than she would anyone else. She wasn't frightened, but her body had changed minutely. It was arched in interest, perhaps familiarity, but not terror.

"You know," he stated close enough that he didn't have to raise his voice much, "this scene just doesn't seem to fit you. Loud, thrumming under-rhythms, the rave-like lightning, the volume. This isn't where a girl like you belongs."

She shifted, turning her body more fully towards him, but not taking her eyes from the room. "Oh, you don't think so? Well, Mr. Joker, where would you say I belong?" And then she turned her head to him, the dare shining in her eyes like a flicker of flame and her mouth set in the slightest of grins.

He returned the gesture with much confidence, "Jazz, soft and slow," he came closer to her, watching as she reclined casually now against the wall. "You know, the stuff that really has soul. Or," his eyes trailed her figure as he leaned in, hand on the wall beside her head, taking in long legs and an emerald dress that hugged her in all the right places and flowed off her hips like liquid, "salsa, tango. Something that you can really move to, real dancing, none of this humping with sweaty clothes. No, you crave deep rhythm, a tenor that really embraces your bones, something truly sensual, not this. _**This**_ is just fake." He gestured around them and raised a knowing brow.

"Oh, you really know a girl," she stared at him, eyes twinkling, "tell me then, do you have a place in mind when you mention jazz, salsa, or tango?"

"And if I do?" He raised an eyebrow. She laughed softly and turning away a moment, placed her drink on a table that stood beside them, before returning to him.

"Hmm, if you know a place where I can find that, then perhaps, I'll think about accompanying you." Her hands skittered up his chest and around his neck, bringing her body closer to his.

"Oh, I'm flattered, ma'am," he arched closer to her, "but what about what these people will think?"

"I'm sure," she shifted closer to him as well, until her body was barley brushing his, "the Joker is more than capable of shutting them up, right? Besides, they've been looking."

He chuckled, but didn't move, only observed her, "I'm sure he could, but then, the Joker...aren't you afraid?"

"Should I be? I happen to be quite enamored with danger, chance, chaos...it has a certain sweet quality to it. Surprises make life rather fun." Her tilted face was now at his ear. He could hear her whispers against the sensitive shell. He purred.

He wrapped an firmly around her waist and brought her fully against him, "Pamela, Pamela," he declared huskily by her ear, "you've certainly been doing well for yourself. I'd say you've rather blossomed since the last we saw one another. I do hope, my arrival hasn't taken too long."

He heard her laugh, "Well actually, you did rather leave me hanging for a while, but I'm sure you can make that up to me." She turned her head and buried it in his neck, inhaling deeply, lips just teasing the skin. He gasped softly, but embraced her with both his arms, a soft smirk on his lips.

"I'm sure I could, so how are all the guys doing?"

"Behaving for the most part," one of her hands fell from his neck and enclosed over the nearest of his biceps. "Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Take me dancing somewhere nice?" She moved to stare up at him, eyes emeralds in the low lighting.

He grinned at her. He brought a hand to her chin and tilted her head further and nodded, "Anything for my Ivy. Just let me get my coat and I'll change and I'll take you to that jazz room you like so much on Seventh." His thumb swept her bottom lip.

She smiled sweetly and nodded, quickly leaning up and without repulsion kissing him chastely before releasing him so he could go grab his coat. His shoulders quaked in laughter as he came closer to Maroni's booth; oh, the look he would probably get. It made him quiver more in repressed laughter.

Poison Ivy and the Joker? Where had they met? How had they met? These were not things for them to think over now, no not now. It was enough to say that they had been long _**acquaintances**_, but that was as much as needed to be admitted. Tonight would be dedicated to making up for lost time and that was the most important.


End file.
